


Sweet Cheeks

by tiger_in_the_flightdeck



Series: Tiger's Tumblr Ficlets [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Intergluteal Sex, M/M, Sleepy Sex, ass worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_in_the_flightdeck/pseuds/tiger_in_the_flightdeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John worshipping at the holy altar of Sherlock's arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Cheeks

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Sweet Cheeks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058268) by [ogawaryoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ogawaryoko/pseuds/ogawaryoko)



> Written as a prompt for someone on tumblr, who wanted John worshipping Sherlock's arse while he was asleep, and waking him up with sexy times.

_I still don’t know how he did it. Even after his explanation, I’m still drawing a blank. But somehow, he managed to find the hidden panel that opened the door. In the room behind the wall, we found the missing physicists. It still hurts my brain, but it was just simplicity for the genius that is Sherl-_

From the sofa, a loud snuffling snore broke John’s concentration. He cringed, and saved his blog post for another day.

Sherlock had showered the dust and grime from the case off, and gone to sit on the sofa to write up a post of his own on the events. Apparently that had only lasted him about ten minutes. With a sigh, John went to collect the man’s laptop and set it aside. When he picked it up, he saw that Sherlock had in fact written his post:

_Can’t be bothered to write this one. See my partner’s blog for notes. Remind him that it is his turn to get the milk._

_SH_

"You little shit." John murmured lovingly as he set the laptop on the desk.

Having collapsed over onto the cushions, Sherlock’s arse was in the air, covered only with a thin towel. Tutting, John took the blanket off of his chair and went to cover him. “Oi, put this away, would you?” he gave the arse a gentle swat.

It started to jiggle.

_Oh, shit… Just cover him up, Watson. Cover him up and walk away. Okay? Wank away. **Walk**. Fucking walk away. Just cov-_

Sherlock let out a soft little moan and flexed his glutes.

_Oh, you’re a bad man._

John’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he knelt beside the sofa. His fingers were feather light as they skimmed up Sherlock’s thighs and under his towel.

The moan was deeper this time.

Somewhere between dropping the towel on the floor, and burying his face between the mounds of Sherlock’s plump rump, John managed to pop open his jeans and shove them down his thighs. He dragged his tongue up the warm, clean cleft from bollocks to tailbone before nuzzling down to work on the puckered hole.

Sherlock gasped, spreading his thighs. John stilled his movements, ready to stammer out an apology, but Sherlock snuggled deeper into his pillow, his eyes still closed.

John had to hold the cheeks apart to let himself breathe, but knew there were worse ways to go out. When he was satisfied with how slicked Sherlock was, he spat on his fingers to stroke himself. At the wet skin-on-skin sound, Sherlock stirred again, yawning. He arched his back to tip up his hips.

Taking this as the only invitation he needed, John stretched himself out on top of him, slotting his cock into the moist cleft. With his thighs on either side of Sherlock’s hips, he squeezed them.

"Mmn, John? Issat you?"

John combed his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and kissed the back of his neck. “It’s me, love.” His hips snapped in, and he tightened his fingers in the curls. Biting his lip, he braced one hand on the back of the sofa to hold himself up and make it easier to watch. Just the head of his cock could be seen when he thrust forward, the rest of it was enveloped in the warmth between Sherlock’s cheeks. “So fucking beautiful,” he groaned.

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered, and he pressed his fist under his chin. “I’m tired, John.” he whined. Squirming in frustration, he tried to smother another yawn.

"Don’t worry, I’m almost done." John let go of the leather and reached down to flick his fingers over the head of his cock.

Huffing out a sigh, Sherlock let go of his cushion and reached behind himself. Just below his tail bone, he made a hollow of his hand, giving John a space to thrust into. He growled when John gripped his hair more firmly.

"Fuck. Sherlock. _Fuck_.” John’s head tossed back as he started to come. Thick and hot, it hit Sherlock’s palm and pooled at the small of his back. Still swearing, John continued to buck until he started to go soft.

With a look of disgust, Sherlock brought his hand around and glared at the mess. He wriggled out from under John and stood up from the sofa. The come trickled over his arse and down one of his thighs. His own cock was rigid, lying flush along his belly and blushing red.

John rocked back on his heels, feeling smug. “Where are you going? I thought you were tired.”

Sherlock bared his teeth and bent to snatch up his towel. Giving John a lovely view of his beautiful bum. “I need to shower again.” Over his shoulder, he smirked. His hip twitched to the side. ”Then another nap. Care to join me?”

John scrambled out of his jeans, and vaulted the coffee table.


End file.
